Moving in the Dark
by specter17
Summary: Alina Whittemore (Jackson's sister) is sarcastic, witty, and best friends with Scott and Stiles. How does she deal with the chaos after Scott is bitten while trying not to admit she's falling for her best friend? Eventual Stiles/OC.
1. Chapter 1

"Ow – FUCK! Stiles!" I yelped, wincing as we each staggered back, holding our palms to our foreheads and wincing collectively.

"Sorry, Alina," Stiles apologized as Scott cracked up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said grudgingly. Even though I likely have a welt the size of an ostrich egg growing on my forehead. I glanced at Stiles. "Are you?"

"Yeah!" He quickly took inventory of his entire body, patting himself down. "Yeah!" he repeated after checking his crotch area.

I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. "Your eye is twitching."

"Nah, I'm good," he insisted, hoisting his backpack into a more comfortable position. "I'm good, really good, totally seriously fine –"

"Did you –"

"_Yes_, I had my Adderall today," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh okay, so you're just a spaz all by yourself then," I said, smirking.

"Didn't we already know that?" Scott chimed in.

"I hate you guys," Stiles informed us as we laughed, walking down the school hallway.

"Aw Stiles, don't say that," I said, reaching over to turn his hat around. I reached into my oversized tote and dangled a plastic Ziploc bag. "I'll make it up to you," I sang.

Stiles' eyes widened at the sight of a huge chocolate chunk cookie studded with M&Ms. "Holy shit, what is that beautiful thing?" he breathed, reaching for it.

I snatched it away just in time. "Please don't drool all over me until we at least get to the lunch table."

"Oh my God, there's Allison," Scott said nervously as we entered the cafeteria. He ducked behind me. "Hide me!"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm four inches shorter than you," I said, sidestepping him and sliding into our usual table. "How were you expecting that to work?" I paused. "Don't answer that." We sat down, and Scott quickly grabbed an oversized book out of Stiles' arms and propped it up in front of himself.

"Hey!" Stiles protested. "I was reading that."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just talk to her?" I asked Scott rhetorically, crunching into an apple.

"No," came the reply from behind _The Dummies' Guide to Lycanthropy_.

"Shit," Stiles mumbled under his breath.

"I know! Can you believe him?" I snorted, turning to look at my normally less idiotic best friend.

I was met by the cover of _A Guide to Battling Mythical Creatures: Online Gaming_. I followed Stiles' nervous gaze to strawberry blonde who had just walked by. "Seriously?" I asked the two books. "Really?"

Scott dared sneak a peek from behind the neon yellow cover. "What's she doing?" he asked nervously.

"Eating," I responded slowly. "Because we're at lunch." I stared at them for a moment before sighing and pushing the books down.

"Wha – Alina!"

"I'm not spending lunch talking to two book covers," I said frostily. I leaned forward. "Guys, I thought we discussed this. I thought you were going to go talk to them!"

"I can't," Scott hissed, successfully wrenching the book back. Goddamn wolf strength.

"I second that," Stiles chimed in, who thankfully possessed none of Scott's physical power.

I sighed. "Stiles, what's your problem? Scott's avoiding Allison because her family wants to kill him, which kind of makes sense. Somewhat. In a twisted, Shakespeare way. Why are you avoiding Lydia?"

"Because."

I cocked an eyebrow. "I thought she was only 40% evil," I said, grinning.

"On a good day," he clarified.

"What's wrong with today?"

"Apparently she and Jackson got into some kind of fight, and now she looks pissed," Stiles answered, nervously regarding the petite redhead.

"What's Allison doing now?" Scott piped up. Both of us ignored him.

"That's her normal expression," I assured Stiles. "Plus you know my brother is always a jackass, so it can't have been any different than the usual. Want me to talk to them?"

"No, it's okay," Stiles said, shoulder slightly slumped. "I don't have a chance with her anyway." He sounded so dejected I wanted to hug him.

"Hey," I said instead, nudging him gently. "Remember this?" I dangled the cookie in front of his face and his eyes lit up.

"You're the best, Alina," Stiles said through a mouthful of buttery cookie.

"I know," I said smugly. My heart jumped oddly at his words.

"How come you don't bring me cookies?" Scott pouted, finally laying the book aside.

"I don't like you as much," I joked. "And you're allergic to gluten." I rummaged through my bag and came up with a pack of gum. "Want one?" I asked, offering it to him.

"Good idea," he said, unwrapping a piece and sticking it in his mouth. "Allison always likes it when I taste minty."

"Oh God," Stiles moaned, covering his ears. "Could you please just not go there?"

"Sorry," Scott said with a huge, unapologetic grin. Stiles and I sighed. The bell rang, snapping Scott out of his Allison-induced daze. The boy was so incredibly whipped it was a wonder he didn't trail after her the entire day like some adoring puppy. Although I suspected the only reason this wasn't, in fact, already true, was because of the minor issue of the Argents being a family of werewolf hunters.

"My favorite fucking class of the day," Stiles muttered as we headed to Chemistry.

"I swear Harris has a vendetta against us," Scott agreed, shaking his head.

I inhaled. "Maybe it'll be different this year. Maybe –"

"Maybe if you stopped talking, Miss Whittemore, you'll actually get through this day without earning detention," Mr. Harris intoned sardonically as we walked in. My nostrils flared. "He's a fucking asshole," I agreed under my breath as we took our seats.

"Told you," Stiles said, drumming his fingers on his notebook. I slouched back in my chair with annoyance. Would it kill Harris to act like an actual fucking human being for once? The door opened, and Jackson leisurely strolled in. Though it was three minutes past the time class started, all Mr. Harris said was "Take a seat, Mr. Whittemore." For some weird reason none of us can fathom, he seems to have a soft spot for my brother. I scowled at my notebook, doodling, as Harris went over the plan for today in his usual monotone. Stiles snickered at my drawing and leaned over to embellish it. I tried to swallow my laughter. For some reason I seem to get really giddy when I'm around him lately. I wonder if it's the way he smells. It's like that freshly-showered, slightly soapy scent combined with the barest hint of cologne. I wonder what kind he uses. Armani, maybe? No, Stiles isn't really an Armani type of guy. Dolce & Gabbana? Calvin Klein? Ralph -

"And what have we here, Mr. Stilinski?" Harris said dryly as he passed our desks. Stiles frantically tried to crumple the doodle up before Mephistopheles could get a good look, but he was too late. Harris held the sheet of paper up to the light, giving the rest of the class an excellent view of a sketch of himself complete with devil horns and forked tail.

"An interesting likeness, but unfortunately this is Chemistry class and not kindergarten. Detention, Mr. Stilinski. You too, Ms. Whittemore." Scott shook his head with sympathy as Stiles tipped his head back with resignation. Jackson looked over at me with a mixture of amusement and pity in his expression. Isaac, surprisingly, let out a snort of laughter he quickly tried to hide by disguising it as a cough. At least someone appreciates my sense of humor.

Damn it. I don't understand why this man takes such pleasure in detaining us after school. Isn't 40 minutes in our company every day enough for him?

"And you thought he was going to be different," Stiles said as we (finally!) left the classroom.

"Wishful thinking," I said morosely. We stopped at my locker as I reached in to pull out the books I needed for later.

"Alina!" Lydia bounced over to me. Stiles immediately straightened up from his relaxed posture and ran a hand through his hair. Unfortunately, his efforts went unnoticed. Though a part of me was secretly glad Lydia was so oblivious to his infatuation.

I just think she's not his type, that's all.

"Hey," I greeted her, shutting my locker and shrugging my Alexander Wang leather jacket on. "What's up?"

"Can you talk to Jackson for me?" she asked bluntly.

"What?" I said, taken aback.

"Come on, you're his sister," she wheedled as Stiles looked away uncomfortably. "Can't you convince him this breakup was a mistake?"

"Despite what everyone thinks, I have no special insight into what goes on in his head," I told her. "He couldn't care less about my opinion."

"Still, you have a _thing." _I wrinkled my nose. Ew. That did not come out right. "You know what I meant," Lydia said, brushing it off. "It's been scientifically proven that twins have a special connection."

"If you mean we tolerate each other, you're right," I said, starting to walk.

Lydia scurried to keep up with my long strides. "Not all of us are 5'7," she said, annoyed.

I slowed down, sighing. "Sorry. But if you want to get back together with him, you're going to have to talk to him yourself."

She sniffed. "Fine. Allison and I are going shopping later. Want to come?" she offered.

"I can't," I said regretfully. I jerked my head towards Stiles. "We have detention."

"You two don't waste any time," she snorted.

"We have a special talent for pissing Harris off," I admitted. "But I'll see you later?"

Stiles watched her go. "I'm starting to think she and I are a lost cause," he said to her retreating figure.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely.

He perked up. "Don't be," he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "I've come to peace with it at this point."

"Take a seat," Mephistopheles said without looking up. I narrowed my eyes at him as Stiles and I deliberately dropped ourselves into the two seats that were as far away from him as possible.

"You know the rules. Or at least, you should by now," Harris said, allowing himself a brief smile at his own unfunny joke. "No talking, no moving, no-"

"-breathing, laughing, or existing," I finished for him as quietly as I could manage. Stiles chuckled appreciatively. We did our homework in relative peace, though I checked the clock every two minutes. Time was moving depressingly slowly. I slid my phone out of my pocket as slyly as I could manage. _Come with me tonight? _I texted to Stiles.

His phone buzzed, and he quickly slapped a hand over it before daring to type an answer. _Shopping? Not my thing._

_Please? J_

_Ugh…FINE. But you owe me a giant pretzel._

_Only if you let me pick out a shirt for you._

_No._

_I'll get you the kind with cinnamon sugar sprinkled on top._

_FINE!_

I grinned at my small victory, though Stiles did not look pleased. As soon as the minute hand clicked to three o'clock, we jumped out of our seats and bolted before Harris found another reason to detain us.

"Finally," I sighed, resting my head against the back of the passenger seat in Stiles' Jeep. "Do you know if Scott will be there too? Because-"

"Sorry, but your plans are going to have to wait," a gravelly voice said from the backseat.

Stiles jumped in fright, whacking his head on the top of the car. "Ow! What the hell, Derek?" he said. Derek looked back at him threateningly. "Sorry," Stiles said quickly, averting his gaze.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

Derek leaned forward. "Just drive," he said menacingly into Stiles' ear.

* * *

**This will be mostly AU, some canon but mixed in with other stuff. I'm also having the characters be seniors in school, because it makes more sense to me that way. There will be more about Alina, our OC, in the next chapter. Please review! x**


	2. Chapter 2

"Ow, ow, ow," Stiles chanted as Derek hauled him out of the car by his ear after ordering him to drive to my house. "What are we doing here again?"

"No questions," Derek barked.

Stiles shook him off, looking surprised at his own audacity. "If I'm still harboring your fugitive ass, I get to ask questions," he said with a spark of inspiration.

Derek stared at him for a moment before straightening Stiles' jacket and backing off with a wordless nod. The lanky boy looked extremely pleased with himself and repeated the same gesture back to Derek, though he shrank back with fear as Derek leered at him.

I caught Derek's sleeve as he headed for the door. "What do you want with Jackson?" I asked nervously. He may be a douchebag, but he's still my brother.

He looked at me with something bordering on pity. "I think he's the kanima."

"What?!" I asked in surprise. "No. There's no way. How are you even going to find out for sure?"

In response, Derek pulled out a long, jagged piece of glass.

"That's not going anywhere near Jack," I snapped, folding my arms.

He snorted in amusement. "And you're going to stop me?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded irritably, not appreciating the lack of faith in my physical capabilities.

"Relax," Derek said. He held the piece up to the light, and we watched a droplet of clear goo ooze down it. "It's from the kanima. Snakes can't be poisoned by their own venom."

"So you're going to force it down his throat?" I asked in disbelief. "It'll paralyze him!"

"Not if he's the kanima," Derek said grimly, pushing past me.

Stiles looked at me sympathetically. "He's kind of got a point, Alina."

I scowled stubbornly. "But-"

"Just think of that time Jackson keyed your dad's car and blamed it on you."

"Yeah, but we're talking about _paralyzing _him-"

"Temporarily. And that time he used your favorite shirt as a rag to wipe down his Porsche."

I paused. "A few minutes won't hurt," I agreed, following Stiles up the stairs. We stopped at the sight of Jackson collapsed on the floor, his mouth open.

"I told you," I said angrily to Derek. "He's not who you're looking for."

Derek replaced the sliver of glass carefully in his pocket. "You're still a snake, Jackson. Just not the snake I'm looking for." And with that, he brushed by us and vanished out the door.

"He didn't need to ambush me," Stiles mumbled. "He could've driven his own goddamn car."

"He likes an entrance," I said dryly. "In case we forget how terrifying he is."

Stiles squared his shoulders, rubbing his ear. "I'm not forgetting that any time soon."

"Hello?" Jackson gasped from the floor as he gradually regained control of his facial muscles. "A little help, please?"

Stiles looked down at him unconcernedly. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about you."

"It'll wear off in a few more minutes," I assured my brother. I turned to Stiles. "We should probably wait until he recovers before we leave." We walked into my bedroom.

"You're just going to leave me here on the floor?" Jack yelled from the hallway.

"You'll survive," I called back. Goddamnit it, come to think of it, that really was my favorite shirt.

"Sibling bonding at its best," Stiles quipped as I quickly texted Lydia to tell her we'd meet her at the mall in an hour before sticking my iPhone onto its dock. I hit the Music app and set it on Shuffle. Stiles absentmindedly picked up a cameo ring from the glass jewelry dish on the top of my dresser and twirled it around his finger.

"Didn't know that was your style," I teased as I kicked off my boots and laid back on my queen-size bed. Stiles quickly replaced it and flopped down next to me as usual, his long legs crossed carelessly at the ankle. A song by Two Door Cinema started playing, one of my favorites. Stiles sang along horribly, and after I finally stopped laughing, I joined in.

"Have I said before how much I admire your taste in music?" Stiles said, clutching at his sides for air.

"Yes. But feel free to say it again," I said happily. I rolled over onto my stomach. "Actually, you turned me on to them," I recalled. "Remember? It was that night you spent here when your dad was away-"

"-and I walked in shouting I found the best band ever?" Stiles finished fondly. "Yeah. That was a good night." He glanced at me speculatively. "So I turn you on, huh?" he said, grinning goofily.

I punched his shoulder playfully, and he groaned in fake pain. "You know what I meant." I turned over onto my back again and rested my head on the spot on his shoulder where it fit perfectly.

_Do you feel a certain sense of synergy between yourself and me?_

_A kind of macabre and somber Wondertwin type of harmony_

_What if it was you?_

_You that I needed all along_

I locked my hands behind my bed and stared at the ceiling next to Stiles like we had done so many times before.

"Hey, Harris is a dick to everyone. Don't let it get to you," Stiles said.

"Huh?" I asked in confusion, wondering why he was suddenly bringing up Mephistopheles, my new least-favorite-person-ever.

He looked at me, his honeyed eyes flickering with concern. "I don't know, you're just being quiet, I figured it was because of Harris today," he said quickly.

_What a disaster it would be if you discovered that I cared_

_A little too much for friends but not enough to share_

"Oh yeah," I said too quickly. "Yeah. I mean, no. I mean…" _Shut up, Alina._ I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Stiles looked at me curiously. "What?" I said, growing increasingly flustered under his gaze. I seriously need to get a grip on myself. It's _Stiles, _for fuck's sake. I've known him since I was five. Same kid who used to dunk my ponytail in milk when I wasn't looking.

Stiles' chin was resting on top of my head. "Your hair smells good," he blurted. He paused. "Fruity. It's nice," he added awkwardly.

"Oh. Uh…thanks," I said to his collarbone, not knowing what else to say. My heart was too busy doing flip-flops instead of sending enough oxygen to my brain to formulate a better response. "Yours does too. I mean, your hoodie smells good too," I corrected myself.

Stiles toyed with a strand of my hair. It felt incredibly soothing, as it always had. I shut my eyes, thoroughly comfortable. "Thanks," I heard him say. I smiled into the purple fabric of his hoodie.

"Aw, aren't you two adorable," Jackson drawled as he stuck his head into our room.

We sprang apart, Stiles sitting up immediately and me jumping off the bed. "Look who can finally stand," I shot back. "Let me get the camera."

"Hilarious," Jackson said sarcastically. His gaze hardened. "How could you think it was me?"

"She didn't," Stiles jumped in. "It was Derek's idea."

"Stay out of this," Jackson retorted. "Why don't you go back to benchwarming, or whatever it is you do in your spare time?"

"At least he doesn't tape himself sleeping," I said sharply. Jackson looked surprised. "Yeah, I saw you. What, did the mirror get sick of you?"

"Shut up!"

"Dude, you taped yourself?" Stiles said, snickering.

My brother shot him a withering glance. "Don't talk about stuff you don't understand."

"Enlighten us, then," I demanded.

"Alina, do you really wanna know?" Stiles pointed out as Jackson stormed off. "He could be up to some kinky shit, you never know."

"Stiles, ew! I can never un-see that," I complained, reaching up to cover my eyes in an attempt to block out the unwelcome mental image. My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it off the dock. "Shit, we're late to meet Lydia," I said, shoving my feet back into my boots.

* * *

"You guys look like you just had sex," Lydia said bluntly as we hurried up to meet them. Allison looked as if she was trying very hard not to smile. Scott merely looked confused, as he's prone to doing.

"Lydia!" I almost shouted. "What is wrong with you?" Sometimes I seriously question why I'm friends with her.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "What? You looked all rumpled and flustered." Her eyes gleamed wickedly. "Did you do it in a closet? I never thought you were the type." I pulled the hem of my tee down as my cheeks reddened. "And you're blushing," Lydia sang.

"We rushed here to meet you," I snapped. "Sorry if we aren't up to your ironed standards."

"Me and Alina? Yeah right," Stiles snorted, clearly viewing the whole thing as a joke.

"Yeah," I said after a pause. "Right," I echoed. Allison cleared her throat uncomfortably. She tilted her head towards J. Crew. "Wanna start here?"

"Good idea," I said in relief. "Thanks," I whispered as soon as Stiles and Lydia were safely out of earshot.

She smiled as she pulled out a red silk top and held it against herself appraisingly. "No problem. But between you and me…" she hesitated. "Is there something going on between you and Stiles?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

Allison shrugged. "No reason."

"I like that color on you," I said, changing the subject.

Her dimples flashed. "You think?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "For sure. So you and Scott look like you patched things up," I said, nodding towards the boy in questions as I picked through a pile of oversized cashmere sweaters.

She nodded. "Yeah. We just have to keep it a secret from my parents." She frowned. "My dad would kill him. And I can say that more literally than most teenage girls can."

"True," I agreed. "I'm happy for you guys." I quickly filled her in on the Derek-Jackson episode that had just occurred.

Allison frowned. "Does he really think Jackson could be the kanima?"

"Not anymore. But that means we still don't know who it is." Allison bit her lip. "But-" she started, stopping as a shop assistant brushed by to return clothing to the rack. She lowered her voice. "Then it could be anyone." I nodded in grim acknowledgement.

We wandered over to the menswear section. I held up a graphic T-shirt. "Stiles would love this. Ooh, and these," I said approvingly as I spotted a pair of dark wash, slim-cut jeans.

"You should make him try them on," Allison suggested, giggling. It felt good to get our minds off the supernatural for once.

* * *

"Alina!" Stiles called out from the dressing room. "These are too tight. You definitely got me the wrong size."

"No, I didn't," I said. "You just don't know your sizes. Come on, let me see."

"I don't wear skinny jeans!"

"They're slim-cut!"

"What's the difference?!"

"Get your ass out here before I take back my pretzel offer!"

The door swung open. Stiles stood there, shuffling his feet awkwardly. The clothes fit his lithe body perfectly. The T-shirt gently hugged the sides of his slim, sculpted torso, while the jeans accentuated his long legs. He stuck his hands in his pockets self-consciously, and I felt my heart flutter at the familiar gesture.

"You look great," slipped out of my mouth before I even knew what I was saying.

He peered at me from out beneath his lashes. "Really?"

I smiled. "Yeah." A strange crackle of electricity passed between us, different from our usual banter. Stiles took a step forward, about to say something.

"Guys!" Lydia's voice broke the silence, breaking the moment. She waved her shopping bags. "Are you ready yet? We're about to leave."

"You go ahead," Stiles said, looking at me. "We'll catch up to you later."

Lydia shrugged. "Okay." She clicked off gaily on her four-inch heels.

Stiles brought his stuff up to the counter to pay for it. "Hey," he said, reaching over to grab a bright, poppy-colored beanie. He jammed it on my head.

"I've been looking for one of these," I said happily, reaching up to get a better look.

He shot me a smile. "I know."

* * *

**Thanks for the follows! Shoutout to fluffyfluffyboomboom for reviewing :) The song lyrics are from "It Had To Be You" from Motion City Soundtrack. I know there's not much action in this chapter, but it's coming, I promise. There will also be more of Scott and possibly Issac. For Alina's faceclaim, I'm considering Cara Delevingne. Hope you continue reading! x**


	3. Chapter 3

I squirmed uncomfortably. Allison, Scott, Stiles and I had settled into a booth at the nearby diner, and it suddenly felt inexorably like a double date. Especially since Lydia left, claiming an "emergency manicure appointment." However, my relief was short-lived since I had the very distinct feeling Scott and Allison were trying to set us up. In fact, I was almost completely convinced Allison, Lydia, and possibly even Scott had specifically planned this arrangement behind my back.

"You guys make such a cute couple," our waitress chirped to Stiles and me as she handed us menus.

"Oh, we're not –" I began lamely, but she'd already left. Allison was grinning openly.

"Oh my God, they have curly fries," Stiles said happily as he perused the menu, completely oblivious to the waitress's comment. I grabbed Scott's arm, tugging him out of the booth. "Scott, could you please come look at the desserts with me?" I said, jerking my chin towards the glass display case.

"But I'm allergic to gluten!"

"They have ice cream," I all but snarled, pulling him with me.

"The cherry pie looks good," Scott said hopefully. I merely glared at him. "What? Do you not like cherry?" he asked, confused.

"No! And what are you and Allison up to?" I asked suspiciously.

His soft brown eyes slid to the side nervously. "What do you mean?" he tried, playing for time.

"You know what I mean!"

"Okay," he relented. "But seriously Alina, I can hear your heart beating from like a mile away whenever you're around him." He raised his eyebrows apologetically. "Honestly, it's kind of obvious."

I flushed. Stupid wolf hearing. "Well…don't listen!"

"I can't help it!"

I scowled. "It's nothing. Mind your own business."

"You and Stiles are my business," he asserted.

"You're not usually this invested in my love life," I said suspiciously.

Scott shuffled his feet. "Well…Allison and Lydia might have said something-"

I threw my hands up in the air. "Why is everyone prying into my love life?"

"Because you don't have one," Scott said bluntly. Seeing my expression, he quickly added, "but you could! Like half our grade have asked you out before, and you always say no."

"No, I don't! There was…Kevin," I said, floundering.

"You went out on one coffee date with him and you texted me to bail you out after an hour."

"He kept talking about his goldfish. It was weird. And you're exaggerating anyway! 'Half the grade.' Yeah, right."

"I can name six guys off the top of my head right now," Scott said. "Luke, Sam, Cameron-"

"Stop!" I said, putting my hands up.

"Sorry, Alina," Scott said, not looking sorry at all. "But you have to admit, you might a little…picky." He grinned, looking like a Labrador that had just fetched a tennis ball. "It's obviously 'cause you're into Stiles."

"That…that is just not true!" I denied less than eloquently.

"You said you didn't want to go out with Luke because he had short fingers!"

"It freaks me out, okay?!"

"What about Sam?"

"Bad breath."

"Cameron?"

I paused. "I don't remember. But there was definitely something," I said with certainty.

"Alina, why don't you just admit you have the hots for Stiles!" Scott said, exasperated.

I cringed. "Because it's not true. Don't say that!" I looked around furtively. "Lower your voice," I hissed.

Scott snorted. 'There's no point, everyone except you and Stiles know already. Alina, it's not like I enjoy playing matchmaker!" he said. "But I'm your friend, and I want to see you happy."

"I am happy!" I snarled.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "That is not the sound of a happy person," he said, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious.

I lifted my shoe threateningly. "These have heels," I warned him.

"I heal fast," he scoffed, though he backed off. "Come on, we should get back," he said, linking an arm through my elbow as I groaned reluctantly. "Hey, do you really not like cherry pie?" he asked curiously.

"No," I admitted. "I love it."

"Anything good?" Stiles asked me through a mouthful of curly fries as we returned to the booth.

I stole one from his plate, dipping it in a pile of ketchup. "The cherry pie."

We talked over shared plates of burgers (Stiles and Scott), crudités (Allison), and waffles (me – I've always loved having breakfast for dinner). Scott was in the middle of telling us the latest drama at lacrosse practice (apparently my delightful brother had a habit of 'accidentally' hurtling into Scott) when Allison pulled her phone out her pocket, the screen lit up with a text message. "It's Jackson," she said with a frown, leaning over to show Scott the message. "He said…oh."

"He said what?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said unconvincingly. "We should go, though. Stiles, you can drop Alina off, right?"

"What's going on?" I cut in. "Give me that," I said, swiping his phone from his hand.

"No, Alina, don't!"

_Meet me at school. I know who the kanima is. Don't tell Alina._

"Who does he think he is?" I said angrily, throwing down a few bills and standing up. "Of course I'm coming."

"Maybe he's just trying to protect you," Allison suggested as we went out to the parking lot.

"He's four minutes older than me. He can get over it," I said, throwing open the passenger door to Stiles' Jeep. We sped to the school with Allison's car closely following us. I made to get out of the car, but Stiles threw an arm over me. "What?" I asked.

"Wait. Something about this doesn't make sense," Stiles said. "Think about it. How did Jackson figure out who the kanima is? No offense to your gene pool, but logical reasoning isn't usually his strong point."

"Yeah, but-"

"And why would he meet us at the school? Why not just your house?"

I thought about it. He was right - something seemed off. "So what do you want to do?"

"I think you should stay here while I go check it out," he responded definitively.

"What?! No!"

"Alina – "

"We go together," I said stubbornly.

Stiles hesitated. "Okay. But be careful."

"Always."

We followed Allison and Scott into the dark school. "Did he say where he'd be?" Allison asked. Scott started to respond before a huge crash echoed through the hallway. We froze, staring at the crater in the ceiling.

"RUN!" Scott yelled, and we took off.

"Where are we going?" I yelled back.

"Somewhere without windows," Stiles panted as we ducked into another hallway, the kanima's footsteps echoing around us.

"We're in a school! Everywhere has windows!" Scott said through his teeth. His eyes were glowing gold, and I could tell he was struggling not to transform.

"Somewhere with _less _windows then," Stiles replied tersely.

"The locker room," Allison said, running ahead of us. We tumbled into the room, hastily shoving benches against the door. "That's not going to keep it out for long," she said nervously.

Scott ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know." I doubled over wheezing, trying to catch my breath. Cardio was never my strong point. I've got excellent reflexes though, and an unparalleled knack for snagging the last cupcake. "Look, you guys stay here. I'm going to go distract it," he said decisively. He turned back towards us, fully wolfed-out.

Allison stepped forward. "Not alone," she said, her steely voice leaving no room for argument. She pulled a bow out of her bag and aimed it expertly towards the door. We stared at her.

"Since when do you carry that thing around with you?" Stiles asked, his mouth open.

"Since we realized there's a reptilian abomination roaming around," she answered simply.

Scott looked slightly annoyed, but acquiesced for the sake of time. "Okay, fine. Let's go." They opened the door a crack and started to squeeze themselves out.

"What about us?" Stiles said.

"Stay here!" Scott hissed.

"Why is this starting to feel like you're Batman and I'm Robin?" Stiles snapped. "I don't want to be Robin _all_ the time!"

Scott paused, one leg out the door. "What?" He blinked and shook his head. "No one is Batman and Robin any of the time!"

"Wha – not even some of the time?" Stiles asked with disappointment.

"Just stay here!" Scott said as he and Allison disappeared.

"Oh my God," Stiles grumbled to Scott's retreating backside. He slumped against the door, pushing it closed again. I kicked the lockers in frustration, pouting at being left behind again.

"You're definitely not Robin," I assured him. "They're like…Elena and Stefan. We're like Katherine and Damon. Much more badass." We shared a mutual obsession with The Vampire Diaries and spent at least thirty minutes dissecting every episode.

Stiles perked up at this. "I'm _way _more Damon than Stefan," he said with a comical swagger.

"For sure," I agreed, trying to stifle a laugh. I eyed him appraisingly. "You just need a leather jacket and perfectly tousled hair."

Stiles whipped off his snapback and mussed up his hair, which had been growing out lately. I really liked it like that, I mused. "How's this?" he asked.

"Perfect." I grinned.

"But wait, then we'll be in matching leather," Stiles said, gesturing to my jacket, frowning as he considered the dilemma. His eyes lit up with a sudden fervor, which I knew meant he had just come up with an idea that was either completely stupid or completely brilliant. Or both. "We could be Batman and Catwoman!" We exchanged a high-five at his creative genius, both of us glad we had settled the issue of which theoretical superhero we would be. Suddenly, something slammed against the door, moving the benches back a good six inches.

Stiles let out an extraordinarily high-pitched yelp. "What the hell was that?" I hissed, searching for a way to escape. There was none.

"Did you not hear that?" Stiles whispered, frantically opening a locker in the back row and pulling both of us inside.

"I meant you!"

"I have an unusually wide vocal range," he mumbled defensively.

We were so close together in the small space I could feel my hip bones pressing against his. My heartbeat felt like it was colliding into his chest. The darkness cast dramatic shadows on Stiles' face, shading the hollow of his cheekbones and illuminating the curve of his lips. We locked eyes, and I had the most curious sensation of falling into a pot of creamy, freshly brewed coffee. His eyes lowered, settling somewhere near the vicinity of my lips.

Footsteps echoed nearby, and I felt my heart seize in terror. Random thoughts flooded my mind. _I'm too young to die. I haven't even done anything worthy enough to be remembered for yet! Life has barely even started. I want to live in Paris for a year, fall in love, break up, learn how to cook, go skydiving, swim at midnight, experience the greatest night of my life and wake up with a massive hangover that's completely worth it._

_If they use my yearbook picture at my funeral, I will raise myself from the dead and tear that fucking thing down._

The footsteps stopped just outside of our locker. I squeezed my eyes shut. It felt like that pivotal moment in a horror movie where the dumbass character either gets away or dies.

The door was suddenly wrenched open, and I screamed. Actually, I'm not quite sure if it was me or Stiles who screamed, but one or both of us definitely did.

It was the fucking janitor. I blew out a huge sigh of relief as my stomach settled back into its proper place. He shined an obnoxiously bright flashlight directly into our faces, and I squinted against the fluorescent light. "What are you kids doing here?" he shouted. "Get out!" Stiles and I tumbled out of the locker, tripping over each other in our haste to get away.

"Oh shit," Stiles breathed as we stumbled out of the locker room, stopping in his place to look back through the foggy glass window of the door. I bumped into him, surprised, and followed his sightline over my shoulder.

The kanima was looming behind the janitor, crouched on top of the lockers. Its tail was swaying ominously as it readied itself to pounce. "RUN!" I screamed. He scowled cluelessly back at us. In an instant, he was abruptly thrown into the door, his palms splayed against the glass in a bloody mess. I jumped back in shock, barely registering the gruesome scene in front of me.

"Alina, we have to go!" Stiles yelled, but I couldn't move. My feet felt frozen in place as the kanima clawed its way through the door towards us. It tilted its head as it looked at me, and something in its reptilian gaze felt strangely familiar.

Too familiar.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

My head pounded, and I had a severe case of cottonmouth. I struggled to remember what I had done to merit such a massive hangover. I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like someone had placed cinderblocks on top of my eyelids. I wracked my brain for any memory of myself imbibing large quantities of alcohol at some fantastic party, but came up empty.

Oh my God, what if I have amnesia? I'm going to be like that girl in _50 First Dates_. Except I don't really have anyone who would take me on fifty dates.

"Alina?" a voice was calling me. "Are you awake?"

Using what felt like superhuman strength, I opened my eyes. My brother was peering at me anxiously, his blue eyes filled with concern. "Jack," I croaked, feeling like Harry Potter in that scene where Dobby wakes him up by leaning over three inches from his face.

He quickly handed me a paper cup full of water, helping me sit up enough to sip it. "Thanks," I said gratefully, blinking as I gradually recovered my bearings. I took my sterile white surroundings. Clearly I was in the hospital. "Why am I here?" I asked him.

His eyebrows creased. "You don't remember?"

I thought for a moment. Memories were hurtling around my mind, rattling my aching cranium. Stiles…almost kissing Stiles…no, that's not the most important part…why were we stuffed in locker in the first place…? Fuck, the kanima! "Where's Stiles? Scott? Allison? Are they okay? Did they-" I croaked, looking around wildly.

"Slow down," Jack said, holding up his hands. Relief was scrawled across his annoyingly symmetrical features. He was clearly rejoicing about the fact that I had, in fact, maintained some semblance of sanity. "They're fine. Allison only got a few scrapes, so they let her go home. Your nerdy boyfriends are waiting outside."

"Why aren't they in here?" I demanded.

"Family only. Nice to see you, too, sis," Jack added sarcastically.

"Sorry," I said, realizing how my words must have come out. I leaned over to hug him. "Have you been waiting long? How long have I been asleep?"

"Not that long. They brought you in around midnight last night, and it's 10 in the morning now."

"You sat here all night?" I asked, touched by his rare display of non-douchebag emotion.

"Yeah, it was fine," he said hastily. "Don't cry or anything."

"I wasn't going to," I said. "But seriously…thanks," I said quickly. He grinned briefly in acknowledgement. I looked around. "Where are Mom and Dad?" I asked.

"Still away. Dad said they couldn't get a flight back til tonight," he said, his tone layered with disgust. We both fell silent. I should be used to this by now, but I'd be lying if I said a tiny part of me wasn't hoping they'd be here when I woke up. Jack stood. "I'm going to grab breakfast. Your dorky friends look like they're going to pee their pants if they don't come in right now."

I looked over to the door, where Stiles' head was visible every seven seconds as he paced. My lips twitched with amusement. "Wait," I said in sudden panic, searching for a mirror. "Do I look okay?"

"Oh my God," Jack scoffed.

I shot him a dark look, brother-sister bonding time over. "Shut up and pass me a mirror."

He rolled his eyes but grabbed a small, hand-held mirror and passed it to me. "Holy shit," I squeaked. My blonde hair was tangled, random parts sticking up. A shadowy bruise traced my left cheekbone, and my lower lip was puffy with a small cut.

"Yeah, you don't look so hot," Jack said, clicking his tongue as he left, leaving me to try and smooth my hair the best I could before Scott and Stiles came tumbling in.

"Jackson, wait! Do you have a mint?" I called after him desperately. "Jackson! Do you have –" My voice trailed off sulkily as he ignored me. "You didn't answer my question," I mumbled to myself.

"You're awake!" Stiles exclaimed giddily. He slid into Jack's vacated chair as Scott sat by my feet.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked. "Alina, I'm so, so sorry I dragged you with us. I knew I shouldn't have-"

"Scott, you didn't drag me, I invited myself," I corrected him. "And I'm fine."

"Does that hurt?" Stiles asked apprehensively, gesturing towards my face.

I touched my lip gingerly. "It's not that bad. Besides, I look kind of badass now. Like I'm a boxer or something."

Scott snorted. "You look more like you lost in a fight," he informed me in his typically blunt manner.

"She kind of did," Stiles said.

The kanima. There was something...something I should have remembered, but couldn't. I knew it was something important, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "You guys don't look any better," I retorted, taking in their wrinkled clothing and dark circles.

Scott shrugged. "We're fine. Allison sprained her wrist, but they didn't make her stay overnight. They thought you might have a concussion."

"Oh. Do I?" I wondered.

"I dunno," Scott said, his brow furrowing. "Do you feel like you have a concussion?"

"No. I don't know. What does a concussion feel like?" I said with alarm.

"Confusion, headache, nausea, blurred vision, loss of memory," Stiles read from his phone. He looked up. "Do you have any of that?"

Before I could answer, a doctor in a white coat bustled in. "Hello Alina, I'm Dr. Watson," he said, consulting my chart. "We met last night, but I'm guessing you don't remember."

I shook my head. "Sorry."

"That's all right. Alina, you have a mild concussion and some minor bruising and superficial wounds, but you should be fine to go home this afternoon." He peered at me. "Do you have someone to take care of you?"

"Yes," Stiles said immediately.

Dr. Watson raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Are you family?"

"N-yes," Scott said quickly.

"I thought the blond was her brother," the doctor said suspiciously.

"We're…er…her other brothers," Scott lied as Stiles nodded innocently.

"Okay. Then make sure she sets an alarm for every three hours and stays hydrated."

"We will, sir," Stiles answered earnestly.

"Good." Dr. Watson flipped the top sheet of my chart back down and left.

I grinned at the two of them. "My other brothers?" I mocked.

"Hey, it's practically true," Scott said in defense.

"In a way," Stiles ascertained. I wondered what that was supposed to mean. Before I could ponder his tone too deeply, the door swung open again and Jack swaggered in, clutching a brown paper bag and two cups of steaming coffee.

"Get out, losers," he said casually, sitting easily in the chair so that Stiles fell off.

"Jack! Be nice," I admonished.

"No, it's cool," Scott said as Stiles brushed himself off with irritation. "You need your rest anyway. We'll see you later." He pulled Stiles out with him. "I'll see _you _at lacrosse practice," Scott said to Jack, mock-saluting him. "Co-captain." He ducked out before Jack had time to form a suitable threat, leaving my brother to seethe silently.

Jackson handed me the paper bag, and I unfurled the top excitedly. "My favorite," I said eagerly at the sight of a warm blueberry scone studded with sugar crystals and a fruit cup containing honeydew melon and strawberries. I took a sip of the coffee. Black, just the way I liked it. "I love you," I said as the caffeine slid down my throat.

"You should," Jack said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"I was talking to the coffee," I half-joked. As I glanced up briefly from my scone, my eyes met his familiar blue ones. Something jarred inside my mind. I knew something wasn't right, but I still couldn't figure out what exactly it was. I stared at him.

"What's your problem?" Jack scoffed, leaning away uncomfortably. "Do I have something on my face?" He rubbed his nose.

"No, sorry," I said absently, still staring at him. "I was just thinking…" I frowned slightly. "What's your problem with Scott?"

"What do you mean? He's just a dork," Jack said, crossing his arms.

"No, it's different lately. Something's changed," I said with certainty.

"You don't know anything," Jack snapped, his sweet side back into its typical state of hibernation.

"I know you asked Derek fucking Hale for steroids," I snapped back at him.

"It's not. Your. Problem," Jackson reiterated, emphasizing each word.

"You've been my problem since you decided to take up half my space in the womb," I shot back.

"I'm older than you. You took up half _my _space."

"Just because you got to shove your face out three minutes before me doesn't mean-"

"Whatever, Alina." He looked pissed, and I knew I'd touched a nerve.

"Is it because you're jealous of Scott?" I pressed. "You can't stand not being the best?"

He stood up, sending the chair screeching backwards. "I know, Alina," he said in response. His eyes were blazing, his chest heaving.

"You know what?"

"I know about Scott. And Derek. And now, apparently, Isaac. I know what they are."

_What? _Since when?! I voiced my question aloud.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is I know, and it's supposed to happen to me too!" Jackson said angrily.

I tensed up. "Is that why you were filming yourself on the night of the full moon?" I realized. So he could see himself transform.

That is so typically Jackson. He nodded furiously. "So what happened?"

"Nothing!" he snarled. "Nothing happened to me at all. Derek bit me and it should've worked but it didn't and I don't know why."

"Why would you even want to be a werewolf in the first place?" I asked.

He looked at me as if I was crazy. "Strength. Speed. Super hearing and sight. You're telling me you wouldn't want that?"

"I've seen Scott transform, and I really don't think the hairy thing would suit me," I said glibly.

"Joke about it all you want, Alina, but don't bother lying about it. I know you well enough to tell when you're lying your ass off."

"This isn't about me," I said, sitting up fully and pushing the blankets away. I struggled to stand up. "You're going insane."

"The only thing that's insane is me as a weak, pathetic human," Jackson spat. There was an odd glint in his eye, a coldness, something I finally recognized.

Then it clicked. "It's you," I breathed in shock.

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews! I know this chapter is a bit shorter, but I wanted to update. Let me know what you think so far!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I added Stiles' point of view as well in this chapter, so tell me if you think it works. i may use it occasionally, but not often.**

* * *

"I'm telling you, it's Jackson," I repeated insistently.

"But Derek tested him!" Scott said. "He had the same reaction to the venom as the rest of us did."

"I don't know why that happened, but I know it's him," I said stubbornly.

Allison looked down at the tablet in her hands. "The kanima seeks a master," she read. The familiar words sank in. "So who's controlling him?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But Jack doesn't know it's him, so-"

"We need to lock him up," Scott interrupted, gently but firmly. "At least until we figure out who his master is."

I sank back, trying not to make a face as I inadvertently brushed my bruised hip against the metal arm of the hospital bed.

Scott looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think I have a plan."

* * *

"So how are you holding up?" Allison asked me after the boys left. Stiles was coming back later to pick me up from the hospital and take me back to his house with him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up. My dad freaked out and wanted me home."

"Don't be ridiculous, I understand," I said. "I'm fine, just a few bumps and bruises." I gestured to the goodie bag next to me, spilling over with makeup, chocolate, and DVDs. "Lydia stopped by earlier to give me this. It was actually really sweet of her."

Allison smiled. "She has her moments," she agreed. She pulled out the ripped envelope containing the card Lydia had written. "Mind?"

"No, go ahead."

"Dear Alina," Allison read aloud. "I'm glad you're not dead. I bought you a new concealer stick, so you can use that to cover up your bruises. Heroin chic went out in the 90's. Eat the chocolate because you're already skinnier than me and I hate it. Xxx Lydia." She dropped the card. "That's, uh…thoughtful."

"Yeah," I said fondly. There's definitely no one else like her.

"So you're going home with Stiles?" Allison asked curiously, settling in next to me.

* * *

"Stiles, stop! You don't need to do that," I protested as he opened the car door, picked up my arm, wound it over his shoulder, and swung my legs into the crook of his elbows.

"I just don't want you to faint in my driveway!"

"Stiles-"

"I don't know how to administer CPR, that's all I'm saying!"

I laughed as he carried me over the threshold and laid me gently on the couch. "Stay here," he commanded. "I'm gonna go get the rest of your stuff."

"Thanks," I said softly. "I hope I'm not a burden or anything. I promise I'll get my ass off your couch tomorrow."

"Shut up, Alina," he said over his shoulder in response. I fiddled with the rings I always wore on my fingers. "Here," Stiles said as he returned, dropping my bag by my feet. "My dad's working late, but I ordered a pizza for us, and guess what I have here…" He dangled the third season of The Vampire Diaries.

"When did that come out?" I gasped.

Stiles smirked. "I have ways," he said smugly, inserting the first disc into the DVD player. He flopped down next to me, moving my legs out of the way. "Stop hogging the couch," he chided with a grin. I groaned dramatically and readjusted my position so that I was sitting upright.

The pizza came just as Stefan compelled Andie to kill herself. "It's just so sad," Stiles mumbled (tearfully?) as he paused it and heaved himself up to get the door. He slapped two gooey slices on paper plates for each of us and tossed me a bottle of water.

"I can't believe Elena still loves him," I said with disgust before taking a huge bite. I closed my eyes, savoring the flavors of mozzarella, tomato, and basil.

"He was her first love!" Stiles argued.

"Yeah, but just look at Damon," I said, gesturing to the screen and the specimen of male perfection that is Ian Somerhalder. "He loves her more, he just doesn't think he's good enough for her."

"I can relate," Stiles muttered.

"What?"

"I said…I can't believe they're...schoolmates."

I looked at him weirdly, but decided to let it pass. When you're best friends with Stiles, this kind of thing tends to happen often.

Somewhere into the fourth episode, I fell asleep. I woke up, slightly disorientated, to realize I'd been drooling on Stiles' shoulder. Really attractive, Alina. I tried to pull away, but Stiles' arm was draped around my shoulder. I smiled to myself, wiped my mouth, and went back to sleep.

The next time I woke up, sunlight bathed my skin in a warm, golden glow. I looked around, tucking my hair behind my ears. Stiles was gone.

There were voices in the hallway.

"Stiles, you know the rules!" the sheriff was whispering.

"I know, I'm sorry Dad, we just fell asleep-"

"I didn't know you two were…well, -"

"We're not!"

"Do you need a refresher with…you know?" the older man asked awkwardly. "Because you know I don't think you're ready, but if you're going to be with a girl, you need to be safe."

"Dad, STOP!" Stiles almost shouted. "It's not like that! We didn't do anything!"

"You didn't – oh." The sheriff stuck his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Sorry."

At this point I was wondering if it would be less painful for me to either pretend I was sleeping or make a quick escape. Unfortunately, Stiles annihilated my first option.

"Alina!" he said with relief. "Look, Dad – Alina's awake." He pointed at me to make his point, clearly using me as a way to escape his current conversation.

"Hi, Alina," Mr. Stilinski said with a small wave. "Glad to see you better. Well, I'll let you two…yeah. I've got to get back to work, so…" He bowed out, closing the door behind him. Stiles literally sagged in relief. Looking at each other, we reached a silent but mutual decision to never talk about what I had clearly overheard.

"Can I use your shower?" I asked instead.

Stiles sprang to action. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead. There are already extra towels and stuff."

"Okay." I quickly made my way up the stairs. Turning the water on first to let it warm up, I stepped out of my clothes and ran a hand through my hair to get rid of any preliminary knots before stepping inside. I stepped inside the shower, letting the hot water run over my hair and face and loosening my tense muscles. I sang the chorus to "Maybe" by Secondhand Serenade, one of my favorite shower songs.

**STILES**

"Maybe it's just me, couldn't you believe…" Alina's voice drifted out from under the bathroom door, bringing a small grin to my lips.

I started to picture Alina in the shower. I couldn't help it. I'm a guy – we're hardwired that way. _Snap out of it, you pathetic bastard_. I shook my head and went into my room, reflecting on the humiliating conversation my dad had just held with me. Jesus Christ.

Not that the situation was anywhere near what he was insinuating, but I'm seriously kind of insulted he was that surprised. Aren't fathers supposed to always think the best about their sons? Jeez. I mean, _I _know I don't have a chance with her, but _he's _not supposed to know that. His lack of confidence in my romantic relationships is stunning.

I got game, I reassured myself, trying to psych myself back up. Definitely got game. I placed my hands on the edge of my dressed and glanced up in the mirror leaning against the wall. "Alina, do you want to grab dinner with me?" No. She'll think it's nothing different from what we normally do. "D' you want to go to the dance with me?" No. "Alina, could I have the pleasure of –" No. Damn it, Stiles. You can do this!

Maybe just not right now. Definitely later, though. At some point. After I've grown some stubble, or something else manly. I pulled off my T-shirt to exchange it for a fresh one. Fuck, I really need to do laundry.

**ALINA**

I shut the water off and wrapped a towel around myself. I felt so much better. I sighed happily, wiping the steam off the mirror. I glanced at my discarded clothes with distaste. The thought of pulling them back on was about as appealing as spending 24 hours with Mr. Harris. I decided to go see if Stiles had a T-shirt I could borrow.

I opened the door. "Stiles?" I called. When there was no answer, I pushed it open slightly further and stepped out. His room was right across the hall, so he was probably there listening to music on his computer or something. I could just poke my head in and he could toss me an extra shirt. "Stiles?"

My breath caught in my throat. Stiles' bare back was towards me, and it looked like the only thing he was wearing was the pair of jeans he'd bought at the mall with me last week.

I couldn't help noticing how the muscles around his shoulder blades flexed as he rummaged around a pile of clothes. "Stiles?" I repeated half-consciously.

He jumped and whipped around. "Alina!"

**STILES**

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I wondered if there was a way for me to somehow stealthily drop the floor and do a few sit-ups and pushups. Like maybe I could yell and point at something behind her and while she's distracted just quickly –

No, screw that idea.

My mind finally registered that Alina was standing a few feet away from me, dripping wet and dressed only in a dark blue towel.

"Uh…uh…" I stammered. Nice, Stiles. Real nice. Try and form a few coherent words now. "Uh…"

"Um…I was just…do you have an extra T-shirt or something I could borrow?" Alina asked, staring straight into my chest. She clearly couldn't meet my eyes because she was so embarrassed for me. Hell, _I'm_ embarrassed for me.

"Uh…yeah," I said, mentally kicking myself. I tossed her my favorite Pink Floyd shirt, and she caught it easily. "Thanks," she said quickly before hightailing it back to the bathroom to change.

I collapsed face-down on my bed. Way to go, Stiles. Way to go.

**ALINA**

All I could concentrate on was his abs. They were perfectly flat and chiseled without bulging in that body-builder way guys seem to think is attractive. He's got that swimmer's V, and the way his shoulders tapered down to his narrow hips…holy shit.

It was probably painfully obvious how openly I was ogling him. God, I'm such an idiot. What was I thinking? He's probably completely freaked out and never wants to see me again. I angrily pulled his T-shirt over my head. What is _wrong _with-

Mmm, his clothes smell so good. It was so…_Stiles_, somehow, as if someone had bottled his natural scent into some perfect cologne.

Okay, focus. How am I going to fix this? I'll just go in there and apologize. Or no, should I just pretend it was no big deal and never happened? I cursed myself for my lack of experience. I'm supposed to be focusing on Jackson and how to cure him instead of fixating on my best friend's naked torso.

"So…" I began awkwardly as I walked into the kitchen. Stiles looked at me like a deer in headlights, his mouth bulging with a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

He swallowed, visibly nervous. "So…" he repeated back to me.

"Uh…d'you have any more Lucky Charms?" I blurted, chickening out at the last moment.

"Yeah," he said, clearly exhaling as it became clear I wasn't going to bring up the incident. He got up and grabbed the box. "Help yourself."

"Thanks." We munched our cereal in silence. "What are we going to do with Jackson?" I finally asked, figuring it would help break the awkwardness to talk about an obvious problem.

"Scott said he had a plan, didn't he?" Stiles said thoughtfully.

"Yeah. Do you know what it is?" I asked.

He chewed. "Nope. Maybe he got Deaton to help."

"I hope so. I just want this to be over," I said, playing with my spoon.

Stiles looked at me, his dark honeyed eyes full of empathy. "I know it sucks. But we'll figure something out. Jackson will be fine." He looked at his phone. "Scott wants us to meet him in the woods near Derek's place."

"Okay. Let's go," I said, clearing both our dishes.

* * *

"You did what?" I said loudly.

"Alina, it was the only way!" Scott said pleadingly. "Please don't be mad."

"You locked my brother in a verified torture chamber in the Lahey's basement!" I yelled.

"Don't think of him as your brother right now. He's unaware of what he's doing," Derek said. "Isaac's keeping an eye on him right now."

"I know it seems horrible, but this is the best way to help him until we come up with a plan to catch his master," Scott said.

I ran a hand through my hair. "How did you even – since when did Isaac – "

"Derek's been busy," Scott said darkly. Clearly there was something going on there, but I was too upset about Jack to delve further into it.

"Why did you have us meet you here, then?" I asked, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"I didn't want anyone to see us. Look – " Scott pulled a small vial out of his pocket containing a dark, glittering powder.

"What is that?" I asked apprehensively.

"I'm getting to that." He unscrewed the top and showed me its contents. "This is mountain ash. Dr. Deaton gave it to me. He said it would protect us from supernatural forces." He handed it to me. "I want you and Stiles to keep it just in case. Derek and I are going to lure the kanima's master out tonight."

I took the tiny bottle gingerly and pocketed it. "What about you?"

Derek grinned at me, his pointy canines gleaming. "Don't worry about us."

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

"So tonight?" I asked again.

"Yes, Alina. Tonight," Scott said through gritted teeth as he pushed the remnants of his sandwich away. "Change of plans, remember?"

"Sorry!" I said, holding my hands up. "I was just confirming."

"You already 'confirmed' about four thousand times," Scott said darkly.

Stiles grabbed Scott's neck near his shoulder and squeezed. I couldn't tell if it was meant to be a warning or a comforting gesture. Probably both. "Calm down, buddy," he said after he managed to swallow approximately six hundred fries. "It'll be fine."

Scott relaxed. "Sorry," he said to me.

"It's fine. It's a lot to think about it," I said, running a hand through my hair and leaning back in my chair with a side. I tipped it back on two legs as I took a thoughtful bite of my apple. "I guess it makes sense, to do it at the dance so there's more distraction. I just wish…"

"You wish what?" Stiles asked curiously just as Lydia slid into the chair next to Allison.

"Alina, your brother is an asshole," she said by way of greeting.

"You're going to have to be more specific," I said dryly. "What did he do this time?" Besides try and kill all of us, I added silently. Stiles had wanted to keep him in Isaac's basement, but it hadn't worked so well.

** 2 days ago

"ALINA! LET ME OUT!" Jackson yelled, pummeling at the top of the old freezer door. Dr. Deaton had given Scott something to drug him with, and we'd dragged him in there and chained him up.

I felt a hot tear skate down my face. I silently leaned against the wall in the middle of the staircase and slowly slid down. After a moment, Stiles joined me. "C'mere," he said, putting an arm around me so I could rest my head on his shoulder.

"I don't want to get snot on your shirt," I cried into the soft fabric.

"It was $7. I think I'll be okay," Stiles chuckled as he stroked my hair. "I know this sucks," he said, his tone serious. "But it's the only way we can help him right now, by making sure he doesn't harm anyone else."

"I know," I said thickly. But that doesn't mean it doesn't fucking suck to hear your only brother try and claw his way out of a chained-up freezer.

"I went through the same thing with Scott when he was still new to the whole werewolf thing," Stiles said quietly.

"Really? You never told me that," I said, lifting my head in surprise.

"Yeah. You and Jackson were going through stuff with your parents, so I didn't want to…anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I know the feeling, and I know how shitty you must feel right now."

I let my head drop onto his shoulder again, trying to ignore the sounds of Jackson's yells. "Thanks."

I thought about how I felt during that time, flashing back to one particular encounter.

* * *

"Hey, kiddo," my dad said, knocking on the half-open door of my bedroom and pushing it open.

I didn't bother to look up from my copy of The Fault in Our Stars, which I was rereading for the third time. "Hi."

He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, the expensive fabric of his navy suit creasing. "Can we talk?"

I shrugged, reaching to turn the page. I had just gotten to the part where Hazel and Augustus are at the airport about to go to Amsterdam.

His voice hardened slightly. "Look at me when I'm talking, Alina."

My nostrils flared. I deliberately earmarked the page and placed the book down. "Yes, Father? What can I do for you on this fine day?"

He sighed and reached for my hand. I pulled away just in time. "Your mother and I have been talking, and we've decided to stay together. I'm going to be spending a lot of time at the work because we're working on a very important merger, but we're going to work on our marriage. We're going to fix this," he said.

"Okay," I said tightly. I felt like I was going to explode if I had to sit there and listen to him talk for one more second. Shut up, I chanted silently. Go away.

"I thought you'd want to know."

"Okay," I repeated through tense vocal cords. I put my headphones on. "I have to do homework now, Dad."

"That's my girl. Keep those grades up. Whittemores always come out on top," he said, getting up.

I've always been really curious as to what would happen if Jackson or I brought home a report that read:

_**Algebra: D-**_

_**English: C+**_

_**History: D**_

_**Chemistry: D-**_

_**Gym: D**_

_**Art: C**_

Harris may hate me personally, but he was unfortunately bound by law to grade me without bias, and therefore I have remained on the honor list. But I have it all pictured out in my head. I'd come home, casually toss the report card on the table, and wait. And then I'd point out, all reasonable, "At least I'm not failing everything. Look, I passed Art." Then I'd stand there calmly as he raged endlessly, and at some point slip my headphones on and walk out the door.

I mean, I know he wants what's best for me and all. I'm lucky to have this family in the first place. Jackson and I were adopted, so we could have ended up in foster care. Or with someone like Isaac's dad. So we were lucky. I'm grateful for the food and clothes and shelter and money. I'm fortunate they have steady, well-paying jobs that bought Jackson his Porsche and me my Vespa and expensive clothes.

But I still can't help this…_fury_ that comes over me whenever I have to talk to them, or look at them, or even think about them. I think about dear old Dad and his (several) affairs and the way Mom buries her head in the sand and ignores him and forgives him when it's so glaringly obvious even she can't ignore it any longer. Most kids wish their parents would stay together. But divorce doesn't seem so bad compared to the precariously stacked house of cards our family has become. I wish she would stand up for herself. I almost wish he would just leave and go off with Bachelorette Number Five, instead of continually crawling back with apologies and jewelry. It's like opening the same wound again and again instead of just letting it scar and heal. Like what I'd imagine a silver bullet feels like lodged in the abdomen of a werewolf.

I wish…I don't even know what I wish for.

Of course, I don't really have it in me to do the whole failing classes thing. I mean, Scott's failing – I don't even think he's technically allowed to go to the dance tonight, not that that will stop him – but it's mostly out of negligence and the overpowering need to save other people's lives instead of do Chemistry homework. The only thing failing really accomplishes is prolonging the already seemingly eternal misery that is High School, so I'd rather not do that.

So I climb on my Vespa in my leather jacket and I smoke a cigarette and I feel badass for a few seconds. Then I choke, because I don't really smoke. But, you know. Typical teenage rebellion, I suppose. They should be happy I'm not off snorting cocaine. Although I do hang out with werewolves on a regular basis, so that must count for something. But their son is a kanima and they aren't even aware of it, so I figure maybe that's enough for them.

So then why do I have this weird flash of…I don't know, nostalgia? sadness? when I watch my dad walk away? Why do I cling so hard to the memory of the time he taught me to ride a bicycle so much more than I remember all the missed recitals, birthdays, holidays, and soccer games?

I have no fucking idea. Some essential glitch in my brain, maybe. Also known as love.

"Stiles?" I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for staying." The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, his honeyed eyes brightening.

The sound of metal wrenching apart ruined the moment. "What the hell?" Stiles said as we jumped to our feet and dashed down the stairs. We were met by the sight of a twisted hunk of metal that had once been a freezer, the chains discarded next to it.

"Oh, shit."

* * *

So that hadn't exactly gone over well. Scott had tried to go after him with no luck. And Jackson apparently had no recollection of his transformations. Ergo, he was sitting at his usual table with Matt and Danny, most likely discussing how brilliant he had been as the last lacrosse game.

"So why is Jack an asshole?" I asked Lydia. Stiles snorted. "This time," I clarified. "What did he do this time?"

"He wants his stupid house key back," Lydia said, pouting.

"So why don't you just give it back?" Scott asked, confused. Someone, most likely Allison, stomped on his foot under the table. "Ow! What?!" he asked.

Unlike Scott, most of us had been expecting a Lydia-Jackson reunion. Before the whole kanima thing, at least. The way I saw it, they were two peas in a particularly mean pod. They were like Tootsie Pops. Hard outside with a soft, gooey center they didn't like anyone else to see.

Allison placed a hand over Lydia's. "Sorry," she said sympathetically.

Lydia scowled. "I'm fine," she informed us haughtily. "It's him who's missing out. I could have a date to the dance tonight in a second." She snapped her fingers. "Like that," she said, casting her gaze over the cafeteria, undoubtedly searching for some minimally appropriate jock to escort her.

Her gaze settled on Stiles. "You!" Stiles went on munching his fries. Lydia reached over to catch his attention. "Hello?"

Stiles looked around disbelievingly. "Wha-who? Me?" he asked.

"Yes," Lydia said, settling back in her seat. "You'll do. You're not going with anyone else, right?" she asked without actually phrasing it as a question. I had the sudden urge to dump the contents of Scott's soda on her perfect strawberry blonde curls.

"I…um…" Stiles was fidgeting uncomfortably. Lydia looked shocked that he hadn't accepted right away. "I was kind of planning on asking…um…"

My heart leapt uncontrollably. The string of thoughts going through my mind was mostly incomprehensible, but basically the gist of it was _me me me me me me me me!_

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?" Scott and Allison looked as if they wished a hole would open up in the ground and they could drop into it and disappear.

"I…of course I'll go with you, Lydia!" Stiles said quickly, crumbling under the pressure. Lydia smiled complacently. "Great! Pick me up at 8. Don't wear red, green, or any shade of blue lighter than cerulean." With that, the bell rang, and she picked up her bag and flounced away.

Allison turned to me. "She isn't doing it on purpose. She doesn't even know you like him," she reminded me gently.

"Yeah, I know," I replied in a strangely high-pitched voice. "It's fine. I'm fine." I swept my books up with shaking hands and stuffed them into my bag. "You guys go ahead. I think I'm going to leave early today."

"Wait! So I'll see you tonight?" Allison called after me.

* * *

I picked up my Stila black kohl eyeliner and traced my inner rims. Picking up a tiny pot of metallic gunmetal cream eyeshadow, I smudged it over my lids and added a thick coat of mascara. My hair was already piled into a carelessly messy bun on the top of my head, and it was going to stay that way. I once tried to use a curling iron only to have my mom ask me if I was 'going for the 80's look.'

I pulled open my closet door and surveyed my clothes. There were a few cocktail dresses wrapped in plastic dry-cleaning bags hanging neatly on the left end of my closet, but somehow I wasn't feeling up to shimmying into some short, strapless confection. I rifled through the rest of my clothes in dissatisfaction. Just as I had decided to go in my usual skinny jeans, there was a knock at the door. "Honey?" my mom called. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," I said, flopping backwards onto my bed. She pushed the door open, a shopping bag in her hand. "Do you know what you're wearing tonight?"

"Probably what I'm wearing now."

"I thought it was a formal dance," she said, eyeing my outfit.

"It is."

"Well, in case you want another option…" my mom reached into the bag and pulled out a dress.

I sat up. "Mom," I said, touched. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to. You never go to these things, and I just thought you could use a pick-me-up. So I had my stylist pick something out for you."

"Oh."

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. Can I see it?" She handed the garment bag to me, and I unzipped it carefully. A long-sleeved minidress sparkled in the light. Silvery, jewel-toned sequins were sprayed elegantly across the bodice, glittering against the dark fabric. I held it up against me. "It's beautiful, Mom."

She stood up with a smile. "I'm glad you like it. I couldn't have my daughter wearing jeans to the formal, after all. Do you need a ride, or do you have date?" she asked hopefully.

Um. "No, I have a ride," I lied.

"With who?"

"Just a friend," I responded quickly. "Thank you so much for the dress, Mom. I love it. I have to, uh, finish getting ready." I walked over and ushered her out the door. "See you later."

I'm such a dumbass. I don't even have a ride. Stiles is picking Lydia up and Scott is picking Allison up, and the idea of third-wheeling with one of them even just for a car ride was less appealing than consuming a jar of mayo by itself. I have my Vespa, but riding that in a minidress with heels on is somewhat unladylike. Don't want to accidentally flash Mr. Stilinski, after all. Damn it. Sometimes I swear I have no idea how I've even managed to get myself this far (not very) in life.

Ooh, I have an idea.

Genius, I daresay.

* * *

"So why am I doing this again?" Derek asked grumpily as I jumped inside.

I watched him take in my attire, lingering on my legs. "Like what you see?" I teased.

"Jailbait," he said, cracking a rare smile. "Not that I care or anything, but since you've made me inconvenience myself so greatly, I would have thought you were going with Stiles?"

"First of all, it's not an inconvenience because you were going there anyway, you were just planning to lurk in the shadows like you always do. And second of all, how do you know about that?"

"You guys are best friends. Why wouldn't he give you a ride?"

Oh. "Yeah. Yeah, that's…um…he went with Lydia," I mumbled.

"You're really not hiding that very well," Derek said dryly.

"Well, turn off your stupid wolfly senses then," I snapped, turning red. I'm so over everyone knowing about my little romantic predicament.

"You wouldn't want that," Derek said as we pulled up at school. He looked out the window. "Especially not tonight."

* * *

**So there was a bit more about our OC in this chapter. I hope it didn't bore you, but I wanted to expand more on her character. Please let me know what you think! I won't withold chapters or anything, but it would really mean a lot if you could review so I know what everyone thinks about the story :) It kind of cuts of in an odd place, but it was going to be too long and I figured it would be better to split it up. The next chapter will be about what happens at the dance with the kanima. Also, if you want to see the dress Alina's wearing to the dance, it's on the Net-A-Porter website as the Sequined silk dress by Matthew Williamson :)**


	7. Chapter 7

_Feeling the tension_  
_Feeling the stress_  
_I've got a notion I want to confess_  
_Looking so good when your hair is a mess_  
_Tearing the buttons right off of your dress_

_You've got pressure dripping off your shoulders_  
_Let me be the one to relieve it!_  
_Lets get unprofessional_  
_Don't you know its gonna feel much better with..._

_Just a little bit_  
_Just a little bit_  
_Just a little bit_  
_It's what you need!_

_-Just a Little Bit by Kids of 88_

* * *

"So here we go," I said, getting out of the car. "Ready?" I asked, offering my arm since he clearly wasn't going to offer me his. He took it grudgingly (most likely more out of pity than anything else) and we walked inside.

Pulsing dance music by Kids of 88 throbbed. Flashing lights roamed over the masses of girls and guys alternatively sitting, dancing, or discreetly (and not so discreetly) stealing sips from forbidden flasks. I squinted, looking for Allison and the rest of our group.

"Alina?!" I turned to my right, trying to figure out who had called my name. I spotted Lydia and Stiles parked at a table, looking none too happy. Stiles looked as if he was in the middle of a long-winded soliloquy as Lydia tried steadfastly to ignore him. I tried not to rejoice at this. Allison and Scott were dancing happily together a few feet away, like the nauseatingly perfect couple they were.

"You came with him?" Stiles and Lydia blurted simultaneously as we approached their table. I didn't want to push my luck by trying to drag a grumpy albeit ruggedly attractive werewolf onto the dance floor with me, so it seemed like my only choice. I grinned at their reaction and decided instantly to play it up.

I leaned closer to Derek, cozying up to his side, ignoring his surprise. "Yeah, what's up Stiles?" I asked casually. "Lydia, I love that dress."

"Wow, Alina, you look…um…I mean, you're really…that dress is really…what I mean, is…" Stiles tried, tripping both over his words and his feet.

"Thanks. I think," I said, crinkling my brows.

"Since when are you two a thing?" Lydia asked skeptically.

"Yeah, since when?" Stiles echoed quickly. Lydia and I looked at him. "Uh, just wondering," he mumbled under his breath as he ran a hand disconcertedly through his hair.

Derek opened his mouth to say something (probably something along the lines of, "Uh, since never) but I tilted my chin up to whisper in his ear before he could say anything. "Just go with it," I hissed under the guise of whispering something incredibly sexy and come-hither that I am not capable of even thinking of in real life. He glanced at me, confused, then turned back to Stiles and Lydia. "Since now," Derek announced, sliding an arm around my shoulders.

I grabbed his hand, playing my part. "Yeah. He's a sweetheart." Derek cleared his throat. "In a manly, badass way," I amended. Derek smiled.

"Well, you look cute together," Lydia put in, already losing interest.

"Really? Do they, though?" Stiles asked in a high-pitched voice that Derek and Lydia ignored.

"Why, you don't think so?" I asked innocently. I knew I was being somewhat of a bitch, but Stiles was the one who had gone with Lydia in the first place, and I couldn't help but try and return the favor.

"Call me crazy," Stiles said, gaining confidence, "but I always pictured you with someone else."

"Like who?" I demanded.

"I'm going to go get us drinks," Derek said loudly, slipping away to avoid the emotional carnage.

"Thanks," I said in the sweetest voice I could manage.

"Seriously?! What is up with you two? He's like a zillion years too old for you. Not to mention a werewolf. And just flat-out creepy, if we're being honest," Stiles said immediately after Derek left.

"Oh, we're being honest now?" I retorted.

"Yeah!"

"Then you don't have any right to be jealous," I snapped.

Stiles' mouth hung open, rendered speechless for one of the very few times in his life. Scott skidded by us. "Hey Alina," he greeted me as he ran away. "MCCALL!" Coach Finstock yelled, pushing Stiles aside to chase after my best werewolf friend. "GET BACK HERE! MCCALL! I SEE YOU!" Scott had managed to pull Danny onto the dance floor and wrap his arms around his unsuspecting neck. "MCCALL! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO-" He broke off as he saw Scott and Danny entwined, seemingly dancing together. "What? You're…oh, I'm not…" he stammered as everyone turned to stare at him. The music stopped.

Scott inched closer to Danny. "Yes, Coach?" he asked innocently. That boy. Just when you think he's closer to a golden retriever than your average homo sapien, he proves you wrong. Across the floor, Allison pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle.

"I wasn't…you don't think…GET BACK TO DANCING! It's a dance, so dance!" Coach Finstock blustered as everyone continued to stare. The music resumed, and Scott relaxed. "Thanks," he said, patting Danny on the shoulder before making his way back to Allison.

"Alina," Derek said, reappearing. He touched the small of my back. "We have to get going," he said meaningfully. "Where's Scott?"

"With Allison," I answered. "I'll text him."

Stiles stood there, looking helpless. All of sudden, the only thing I wanted to do was hug him as hard as I could. I forced myself to turn away. There were more important things to focus on tonight than my imaginary love life.

* * *

"So it'll be like we discussed," Derek whispered urgently. Scott, Stiles, and I were crouched together with Derek on the roof. He had deemed it too dangerous to include Allison in our plan, considering her family's vendetta against all things with pronounced canines. I wasn't exactly comfortable with leaving her out, but I saw his point. "Alina, you have the mountain ash?"

"Got it," I said, holding up the precious vial.

"Good. You and Stiles will spread it around the school. Jackson's not here yet, which means his master isn't either. Scott and I will wait in the front."

"Wait, why do I have to be defense?" Stiles asked.

Derek turned to stare at him. "What?" he barked.

Stiles shrank back slightly. "Um…"

"No, _you _stay here," I said to Stiles. "I'll do offense."

Scott furrowed his brow. "But you're not very athletic."

"Excuse me?!"

"Um…it's just, you told Coach Gina that you were allergic to chlorine so you didn't have to swim in gym class," Scott recalled.

I scowled. "There are like, used band-aids floating in that water. I'm practically an expert at kick-boxing. That's definitely useful."

"I thought you only went three times because you didn't want to commit to a membership."

"That is _not_ relevant –"

"We don't have time for this!" Derek growled. "Stiles, you and Alina stay here." With that, he and Scott leapt off the roof. As they tend to do.

"Well, that's no way to talk to your girlfriend," Stiles said wryly.

"He's not my –" I started to say automatically. I stopped myself, but it was too late.

"Ah ha," Stiles said gleefully. "I knew it!"

Damn it. "Shut up!"

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it."

"Shut up before I feed you to Jackson."

Stiles stopped talking, but his grin was too smug for me to be fully comfortable. "I'm still mad at you," I told him after we walked down the stairs (like normal people) and started sprinkling a perimeter of ash around the building.

"I know. I shouldn't have taken Lydia to the dance. I formally apologize," Stiles said with surprising sincerity.

"You do?" I asked, taken aback as we continued with our line of black mountain ash.

"Yeah. The thing is, Alina…" He paused, and I stopped too. "The thing is it's really hard for me to actually believe that you and me could…that you could actually like me like that."

"What?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"Seriously. I mean, look at me, Alina." Stiles spread his arms, drawing my eyes to his glorious body. "I'm basically a disaster. I'm a complete spaz. I fuck up all the time," he continued, gaining momentum as he is often prone to do. "I'm not even first string. I drive a piece-of-crap Jeep," he said heatedly, kicking at a small stone at the ground. "And you're insanely beautiful and funny and all-around perfect and I'm just not good enough for you. I –"

"Shut up," I said, grabbing him by his shirt and kissing him.

I'm not usually one for those cheesy romantic dramas. I hated _The Notebook _despite Lydia's repeated attempts to change my mind_, _and for the life of me I cannot sit through _Casablanca _or _Gone With the Wind _even though I feel that makes me extraordinarily unclassy. I hate when girls say things like, "Oh my God, he is the _best _kisser" or "I'm so in love" even though you're usually thirteen fucking years old and you can't possibly know what love is yet except I think maybe now I do.

There's a lot of hype for the first kiss. I've thought about this moment so many times it's like the real thing can't possibly trump my wildly overactive imagination.

But it did. It felt like a thousand stars collided, shattering into a million glittering diamonds, bursting into a countless shower of endless crackling fireworks. It felt better than Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams making out in the pouring rain (seriously, that sounds so unsexy – rain is fucking _cold) _or the upside-down kiss in _Spiderman_ (how does that even work?) It felt better than every teen novel and romantic comedy come to life.

He was the _best _kisser. His hands were tangled in my hair and my arms were wrapped around his neck and he tasted like mint mojitos and -

"DO YOU REALLY THINK NOW IS THE BEST TIME FOR THAT?" Derek bellowed between punches as he, Scott, and the kanima (I still can't believe that's Jack) came barreling towards our general direction. We jumped apart and quickly closed the circle with the rest of the ash, though I did so with a stupid grin perma-stuck on my face.

Derek managed to somehow pin the kanima/Jackson down, and Scott threw the contents of another vial into his face. As it settled, the kanima's flailing limbs came to a stop, and he lay there limply, unconscious.

Derek looked as us, his chest heaving with effort. "Help us get him somewhere safe."

* * *

"So how did you get this again?" I asked Stiles suspiciously as we dragged Jack (in human form) into the back of the police van.

"Don't ask," Stiles said wearily.

"I still can't believe I'm the one who had to put clothes on him," Scott grumbled.

"Well, it wasn't going to be me. I'm his sister. It would have scarred me for life."

"Or me. I'm not going to be your guys' human bitch when you don't want to do stuff. I refuse to get that up-close-and-personal with Jackson's junk," Stiles added. He clapped Scott on the back. "Dude, it was a necessary sacrifice on your part," Stiles assured him.

"Can we focus here?" Derek asked tensely as Jackson's eyes fluttered open. "Jackson?"

"Guess again." It was him, but it wasn't him. His pupils were long and narrow, like a cat's, and his voice was oddly distorted.

"Who are you?" Scott asked bluntly. Jackson chuckled darkly. "Oh no. I'm not giving up all my secrets just yet. Not when I still have work to do, people to kill, you know," he said airily.

"Why are you killing people?" Scott tried again as I watched. It was unnerving to see my brother literally incarnate another person.

Scales began to spread up Jack's arms. He examined them idly. "I don't think I'm really in the mood to answer your questions," he said as he began to transform. "But let's just say they deserve it."

"Uh…guys?" Stiles said, jerking his chin towards the door. "Maybe we should –"

"MOVE!" Derek yelled as we scrambled for the exit. We quickly shut the doors behind us, panting.

The van began rocking. "That's not gonna hold for long," Stiles said nervously.

"We can't just let him go!" Scott protested. "Didn't you hear him? He's not done killing!"

"Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious," Stiles snapped. "But-" There was a loud crash as the kanima ripped its way out the side of the van and vanished into the night. "That has got to stop happening," Stiles said, pointing at the ragged hole though which Jackson escaped.

* * *

"We'll figure it out," I said as we tiredly made our way back to Stiles' Jeep. "But for the record?" I looked straight into his dark, honeyed eyes. "Disastrous, spastic, Jeep-driving screwups happen to be just my type."

Stiles grinned happily. "Really?" he asked, stroking an imaginary beard. "I've always thought you'd go for the rugged bad-boy type."

"You're better," I said, leaning over to peck him on the cheek, though he turned his head midway and my lips ended up on his. "That was not accidental," I murmured through a smile.

"No, it was not," he agreed contentedly. "But for the record?" he repeated my words. "I could definitely do the bad-boy thing."

"Okay."

"No, really though."

"Uh-huh."

"Do you not believe me?!"

"Just drive," I said with a grin.

* * *

**Thanks so much for your follows/favorites/author alerts! I really love reading them, so please keep them up and tell me what you think. Special thanks to Jeanette AE and Lauren for reviewing :)**


	8. Chapter 8

"Maybe we should rethink this," Stiles said nervously as I cautiously pushed open the door to Jackson's room. It was empty just as we had expected, but still…it never hurt to be careful. Especially since Jackson hated people in his room without his permission since that time we were ten years old and I found his diary.

In my defense, I didn't know it was his diary. I just thought it was a very sad, handwritten book. "This was your idea," I reminded Stiles, turning to look at him and immediately getting distracted at the sight of his sculpted arms and chest muscles, clearly visible through the slim-fitting long-sleeve tee he was wearing. He pushed a sleeve up as he thought, revealing his slightly veiny forearms. Wow. I mean, wow. I've always had a thing for veiny forearms. I don't know why, but they really turn me on. Especially Stiles', and his hands, and his long fingers, and –

"Alina?"

"What?"

"I said, do you think we'll find anything?" he asked as he picked up one of Jack's dirty socks and looked at it with disgust. "Because Jackson scares me when he's human, so I'm not loving the idea of him finding us in here whacked out in the scales he seems to love lately."

"Probably not in his laundry basket," I answered, still distracted. I opened his closet and stared at it, thinking. "Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

I looked over to see Stiles' ass sticking out from under the bed. I suppressed a chuckle. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for clues. Under the bed is classic, and Jackson doesn't strike me as particularly creative."

"Hey, that's my brother you're talking about," I objected mildly, though I privately agreed with his assessment. After all, that was where I had found the diary. But surely he wouldn't –

"I found something," Stiles announced. Or, he would. Stiles shimmied back out, covered with dust and clutching a slim, leather bound yearbook. He sneezed adorably.

"Bless you."

"Thanks." Stiles flipped open the book and looked through it. "I don't know if this is going to help us. It's just an old yearbook."

I took it, frowning. "Yeah, but then why bother hiding it?"

"True," he mused, coming behind me and holding the yearbook so that his arms lightly brushed my torso. I shivered.

"Cold?" he said into my neck.

"No…" I inhaled involuntarily as he stepped infinitesimally closer. My heart beat crazily as Stiles kissed my neck, slowly trailing my collarbone.

"Alina," a sharp voice reprimanded from the hallway.

We jumped apart. "Dad? What are you doing home?" I asked in shock.

"Had to stop by and grab some documents." He eyed Stiles coldly. "Stilinski."

"Mr. Whittemore," Stiles said back nervously.

"What are you doing in Jackson's room?" Dad asked

"Um…uh…" I started brilliantly.

"Looking for Jackson's copy of the chemistry textbook. We were studying, and I realized I forgot to bring mine with me," Stiles said smoothly. I looked at him, impressed. He winked, and I tried to pull myself together.

"Right," my father said dubiously as he glanced at Stiles' overstuffed backpack sitting in the hallway. "Make sure he's out of here by six," he said to me as he turned to leave.

"Glad he likes me so much," Stiles said sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, he used to treat Lydia the same way. Come on, we should show this to Scott," I said, beckoning.

"Wait, one more question," Stiles said, jogging after me.

"What?"

"Where does Jackson buy his clothes?"

I stopped. "_What?" _

"I'm just saying, I happened to notice that his shirts are really soft!" Stiles said defensively.

"Um…we both like Alexander Wang. And Zadig & Voltaire," I said, naming our shared favorites. "How come you compliment his clothes and not mine?" I asked, pouting slightly.

Stiles shrugged. "I'm usually too distracted by _you_ to notice what you're wearing."

* * *

"I don't get it," Scott said, flipping through the yearbook. "How is this going to help us figure out who's controlling Jackson?"

"It's better than nothing," I snapped. "What did you find again? Oh, right – _nothing_!"

"Woah," Scott said, holding his palms up. "Sorry I asked."

"Sorry," I said, relaxing. "I'm just stressed. I know he isn't exactly your favorite person, but he's still my brother, and I just want to figure this out so we can help him." We had definitely drifted apart as we'd gotten older, especially this year, but I couldn't forget the Jack who saved my favorite candy bars for me and was the best present-giver and always knew exactly what I needed. Though he was loathe to admit it, he had a very sweet side to him.

Or, you know. He did.

"I know," Scott said gently. He frowned as his gaze fell on a picture of the swim team. "Wait…" He pointed to the page. His eyes moved back and forth as he read the caption. "Guys, this links most of the deaths! Look!" He shoved the book towards us.

"Ew, they're all in Speedos," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"Alina! Focus!" Scott urged.

"Right, right, sorry," I said, leaning over to take a closer look. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I looked at the photo of Isaac's dad grinning back at us. I shut my eyes briefly. "Okay, so what are we supposed to do now?"

Stiles grabbed the yearbook. "I have to tell my dad."

* * *

Mr. Stilinski scratched his head. "You're trying to tell me someone's trying to kill off the 2006 swim team but you don't know who or why?"

"Yes," Stiles answered immediately.

"I need more than that," Mr. Stilinski said.

"Look, Dad, if two's a coincidence, then three's a pattern!" Stiles said impatiently.

"Stiles, I believe you, but we have no proof. Look, I'm going to investigate this and see what we come up with, okay? There's obviously a connection – we just have to figure out what it is."

"Okay. Can we help?" Stiles asked.

"You already have," he responded, grabbing his stuff and heading out the door. "It's probably going to be a late night. Stiles, Alina, you'll be okay? There's pizza money in the drawer."

"Thanks, Mr. Stilinski."

"Yeah, thanks Dad. And –" Stiles hesitated. "Be careful."

He gave his son an odd look. "Always." The door shut behind him.

"It's nice that he cares about you so much," I said after a beat. "Listens to you, you know?"

"Yeah well…" Stiles ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "It's just the two of us, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," I said gently. I grabbed his hand impulsively. "He's going to be okay, Stiles.

"No, I know," he responded brightly in the voice I knew he used when he was trying to mask his anxiety. "It just, like, sucks being the only human family. Right now would be a pretty good time to have some sort of power."

"Hey, I'm human too!"

Stiles grinned. "Barely."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" I asked, laughing. "And besides, I like that you're human. I don't really like hairy guys," I said, thinking of the furry patches Scott and Derek sprouted when they transformed.

Stiles let out a cough that suspiciously resembled the word "Derek."

"What was that?" I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

His gaze dropped to my lips. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought," I breathed before we kissed.

* * *

"Hey Alina," Matt greeted me as I walked into the classroom.

"Hey," I said, nodding with a smile as I passed his desk. I paused for a second. "Have you seen Jack lately?"

"Yeah, yesterday. Why?"

"Nothing. He hasn't been home, so I haven't seen him. How was he?"

"Fine. I think he's just stressed or something," Matt answered, giving me an odd look.

I thanked him and took my usual seat in the back. My eyes darted towards Jack's empty seat. So he was still talking to his friends, meaning he was still able to resemble something approaching normal. But how much was he in control, and how much control did his master have over him in human form?

"So how's Derek?" Lydia asked, jolting me out of my reverie.

"Huh?"

"Hello? Tall dark brooding stranger you brought to the dance?"

It had only been a couple days ago, but it felt like forever. "Oh, right. Nothing happened."

"You and Miles?" Lydia asked knowingly.

"I know you know his name. And…yeah."

"Well, it was about time," Lydia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder as Mr. Harris walked in and set his ugly-ass briefcase down. Just as I was starting to wonder about Scott and Stiles – they might've cut in order to do something either extremely important or extremely unimportant, but either way I'd have preferred to be with them rather than sitting through another mind-numbing chemistry class – they hurtled in. We'd just passed Scott's name in roll call. I'd been half-expecting Harris to pull a Ferris Bueller and drone _McCall? McCall? McCall_? over and over again.

"Sorry, Mr. Harris," Scott apologized as they took their seats. _I'll tell you later,_ Stiles mouthed at me as I shot them a curious glance.

"Detention, Mr. McCall. You too, Mr. Stilinski," Mephistopheles said dryly. "Tardiness is not tolerated in my class."

I winced on their behalf. Extra time with Harris wasn't exactly high on our list of priorities. By the time he finally let us go, my ass was numb. Scott filled me in on their genius plan.

Which was to go to the party at Lydia's house.

"Is that seriously what you came up with?" I interrupted.

"No, that's not all!" Scott said. "You didn't let me finish. Look, the kanima is afraid of water, right? But Jackson isn't. So whoever controls the kanima is afraid of water. Lydia has a pool. We'll invite everyone we know and –"

"And what, toss them individually in the pool and see who can swim?" I finished sarcastically.

"It's got minor flaws," Stiles admitted. "But come on, it has to be someone we know."

"Yeah, and if nothing else, it's a chance to let loose. Come on, Alina," Scott wheedled.

"We just went to the school dance last weekend," I complained.

"Slow down, we got a party animal over here," Stiles teased. "Seriously, though. If you think about it, the kanima's master has to be someone Jackson knows, meaning it's most likely someone we know. Otherwise how would they have access to him?" he reasoned.

I considered his logic. "You're right," I acknowledged. I grinned at Scott. "But don't pretend you're not using this as a chance to hook up with Allison."

He shrugged. "I can multi-task. Plus, we haven't really gotten to talk lately." I nodded sympathetically. Hazards of dating an Argent.

* * *

Lydia and I were getting ready together in her room. I was supposed to help her set up for the party, but so far all we had done was blast the Ready to Rendezvous playlist on Songza and change our outfits.

I watched her hold a strapless, apricot-colored dress up to herself in front of the mirror. I wanted to tell her everything about what was going on. She was shallow and vain, sure, but she was also whip-smart and a really good friend when she wanted to be. It wasn't fair for her not to know something so huge, but I also knew it wasn't my place to tell her. "I like that one," I said instead.

"You think?" she asked as she looked at herself critically. "What are you going to wear?"

I gestured to myself. "This." I was wearing denim cutoffs, my favorite studded leather ankle boots, and a 3.1 Philip Lim graphic tee.

"Going for the casual look, I see. Well, at least you have the legs to work those shorts. I'm sure Stiles will appreciate that."

I laughed and tossed a throw pillow at her. Grabbing a necklace, I quickly clasped it around my neck and added a few stacking rings. "Better?"

"Much. Now come on, we have a party to set up for," she said as if I wasn't the one who had been standing there for an hour applying the exactly the right shade of peachy Nars blush.

* * *

Two hours later, the party was in full swing. Kids from school were everywhere, but Jackson was nowhere in sight. Stiles and I were standing by the pool. Scott and Allison were off somewhere talking, though he had promised to be back soon to help us keep a lookout. We had begun vigilantly, but had eventually collapsed into the lounging chaises Lydia kept by the pool, idly watching random guys toss each other in while ogling the heavily made-up girls in bikinis. So far, no one had showed any signs of aquaphobia, though that made sense, because if they were in fact scared, they probably wouldn't be anywhere near the pool. Our plan was looking more dismal by the minute.

"Hey, there's Matt," I said as I saw him walk up to the front door. "Maybe he's seen Jack since this morning." I waved at him enthusiastically to catch his attention, and he began to make his way over.

"Hey guys. Have you seen Allison?" he asked.

"No, I think she's inside with Scott somewhere," I answered. "Have you seen Jack?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, which I took to be a side effect of not seeing Allison. "No, sorry."

"Well, do you want to hang out here with us?" Stiles offered. He gestured towards the pool. "Water's warm."

Matt shot a wary glance over his shoulder and began backing away. "No, I'm good. Thanks, though, man -" He was cut off by two of the guys from the lacrosse team, who drunkenly pushed him towards the pool. He thrashed and struggled against their grip, managing to scramble away before they tossed him in. Straightening his shirt, he looked at us and then quickly looked away, walking purposefully towards the house.

We watched him go. For some reason, something about his behavior seemed off. A seed of doubt was beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach as something clicked in my mind. "Stiles," I said urgently. "Do you think…?"

"Maybe," Stiles said, already getting up. "We should find Allison before he does."

* * *

**I know it's been a while since my last post - I've been so crazy busy lately. Thank you to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited, please keep it up and let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

We quickly got up and tried to follow Matt through the throng of intoxicated revelers. "Drink?" Lydia offered us as we passed, holding out two cups of pink liquid.

I shrugged. "Sure." Stiles and I took a gulp before setting our glasses down and resuming our search. I squinted as the edges of the room wavered slightly. Matt had disappeared. "Did you see where he went?" I slurred.

"No," Stiles answered, looking as out of it as I felt. "He's gone." What the fuck kind of alcohol had Lydia used in those pink drinks? We'd had a few sips earlier and just now, but it was hardly enough to justify the level of light-headedness I was now experiencing. Damn it, I need to focus. Matt was possibly the kanima master, and…

Was that Jackson? I thought I had just seen a glimpse of his blond hair in the crowd, but I wasn't sure. When I tried to look again, he was gone.

"We're looking for Jackson and Alina." I looked up at the sound of my name. Two people were standing towards the front of the room. I groggily began to make my way towards them. "We're their real parents," the woman was insisting. What?

Every question Jackson and I had about our birth parents was carefully deflected with a perfectly vague answer, and eventually we had stopped asking. I figured they were either drug addicts or we were an accident or they just didn't want us for one reason or another, and it wasn't worth it to look for someone who had willingly given us up. I knew Jack harbored a more idealistic fantasy – maybe they were young and brilliant and they couldn't afford to keep us and wanted to give us the best life they could. He – and I, if I'm being honest – used to think that maybe they died heroically or tragically because only death could keep them away from us, but we had found out they were still alive a few years ago when Mom had gotten supremely drunk – unusual for her - and spilled more than normal. She had also told me she preferred merlot over chardonnay, hated wearing heels though she wore them every single day, and cried about the difficulties of staying with a man who frequently and consistently cheated on her. But that's beside the point right now. Try as we did, Jack and I never got anything more out of her. Some super-sleuthing would probably reveal at least a little more, but I don't want to know almost as much as I want to know. Sometimes fantasy is better than reality.

"Where are they?" the man was asking. His baritone voice broke into my thoughts. I thought for a moment that it was almost exactly like Jack's. I pushed through the people, trying to get closer, but it seemed like every stop took me backwards instead of forwards. I craned my neck, trying to see their faces, but I was blocked at every angle. My pulse sped up crazily. I was about to find out who my real parents were. They had come for me. They wanted me. If only I could just – I was so close now, just a few feet away –

They turned around, and I immediately wished they hadn't. Their faces were blank – completely featureless, without eyes or noses or mouths. I stumbled back in shock, stepping on someone's foot. "What the - ?"

Suddenly they were gone and I was left standing in the same exact spot I had started at. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. It felt like a thin, gooey veil had drizzled itself over my senses, fogging up my brain and therefore my ability to think. Stiles materialized next to me, and I grabbed his arm for support. "Are you okay?" I asked, noticing the telltale shine in his dark eyes.

He blinked and cleared his throat. "Fine," he said hoarsely. "You?"

I took one last look at the crowd, searching for the blank-faced couple. "Yeah," I said finally. "I think so."

* * *

"That's so fucking creepy," I shivered as Allison told us about the pictures she had found in Matt's car. "He called them _candids_?"

The brunette nodded unhappily, twisting the hem of her cardigan. We had finally managed to sober up – the same guys from before had tossed Stiles and me into the pool with the dual outcome of instant sobriety and bone-chilling wetness. I had changed into a pair of Lydia's sweats, but Stiles had been less fortunate due to the lack of guy clothes in Lydia's closet. Apparently dear old Jack had made her give him all his old sweatshirts back. Which meant Stiles was currently sitting on the floor with a towel around his shoulders and his hair adorably wet and sticking up everywhere.

It really wasn't the worst sight. Like, at all.

"So what's the plan?" Stiles asked Scott. He'd suffered the same effects as us, but his wolf system metabolized the drink faster than was possible for normal human digestive systems. Meaning he was already sober. "We have to do something about him."

"Derek said –" Scott began as a huge crash echoed throughout the first floor. There was a moment of surprised silence, then everyone started screaming at once.

"That cannot be good," I announced as Scott's eyes widened and Stiles breathed "Shit."

"You think?" Allison snapped with an unusual amount of animosity as we headed downstairs. Ouch. I knew we hadn't talked lately, but jeez. I wonder if –

"Maybe save your girl fight for later," Scott hissed as Matt and the kanima advanced towards us with a smug grin. He had a point. My mind was slightly too good at compartmentalizing, which probably meant these types of situations happened entirely too often. You know, just your casual every-day teen house party complete with sex, alcohol, and a sociopath with a pet kanima who also happened to be my twin brother. That should really be copyrighted. Seriously, it could be bigger than _The Hunger Games. _I wondered briefly who would play Stiles and me, but Stiles was too…_Stiles _to imagine him as anyone else.

The house was completely empty save for the five of us plus Jackson/kanima. Crumpled plastic cups littered the floor, adding to the general state of disarray. A stray pair of bikini bottoms was slung across the back of a chair. Seriously? Has no one learned from the whole early 2000s Britney Spears saga? Lydia would probably have an aneurysm. Come to think of it, where _was _Lydia, anyway? The feisty redhead had been strangely MIA during the entire party except when she randomly materialized with more of those foul drinks.

Scott growled as he crouched, fully wolfed out. He let out a ferocious howl, which meant Derek would probably arrive any second.

Matt mock-frowned. "Aw, what's wrong?" he asked. "I thought this was a party."

"Yeah, well, your little pet over there is kind of a party-pooper," Stiles snapped.

"Did you hear that, Jackson?" Matt asked the kanima who had taken up residence next to Matt's right side like some demented version of a very loyal dog. "He thinks you're the reason everyone left." I knew mentally that it was Jackson, but it was almost impossible to wrap my head around the fact that my brother was a scaly reptilian creature carrying out Matt's bidding. "But you know what I think?" Matt continued with a Joker-esque grin. "I think the party's only just begun."

"Starting without us? That's not very nice," a gravelly voice intoned in the doorway. Gerard and Chris Argent were standing there in all their intimidating hunter glory.

Recovering quickly, Matt raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a little old for this kind of thing?"

Chris cocked his gun. "Never too old to have a little fun." He aimed it at the kanima, who hissed menacingly.

"Wait!" I cried out before I could stop myself. Chris looked at me in surprise. "That's my brother. I thought you had a code!"

"That's not your brother anymore, it's an abomination," Gerard growled.

Matt shrugged lazily. "Shooting it isn't going to do anything anyway. He's a little tougher than that. Feel free to knock yourself out, though I can't guarantee you'll live to tell the tale."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked as a strange calm took over me. Stiles stood behind me, lacing his fingers through mine. The warmth emanated through my body, fortifying me against the incredibly tense atmosphere.

Matt scowled, an ugly expression breaking through his mask of calm. "They all deserved it," he spat. He began pacing, and the kanima mirrored his movements. "I was ten years old. I went over to the Laheys' house to look at a comic book. But the swim team was having a party," he said spitefully. "They were all drunk. Messing around." He stopped, his nostrils flaring with anger. "Apparently they thought it would be _funny _to toss me in the pool. I _told _them I couldn't swim. I _said _to put me down." His chest was heaving. "But they didn't listen." We stared at him. "So they – Camden - threw me in, and I almost _drowned. _Real hilarious, right?"

"So how did you get out?" I asked despite myself.

"Isaac's dad finally pulled me out. Told me not to tell anyone." He laughed bitterly. "Said it was _my _fault. And I listened to him, if you can believe that shit. Well, not anymore." His gaze hardened. "Who's laughing now?"

In the corner of my peripheral vision, I noticed Derek slip in through the window. Lost in his story, Matt didn't see him. "How did you become the master?" I asked, trying to keep him distracted.

He snorted. "I was there the first night Jackson transformed. Now all I have to do is think about killing someone, and he does it for me." He grinned. "Who knew Beacon Hill was so goddamn exciting?"

At that precise moment, Scott leaped at him, tackling him to the ground as Derek jumped in front of the kanima. "Don't hurt him!" I yelled as Stiles pulled me out of the way of combat muttering "Well, there's irony for you," under his breath. Matt managed to fire off a few rounds and slip out of Scott's claws. He tried to dart out the door, but Gerard caught him with an ironclad grip as Chris joined Derek in his struggle with the kanima. Casting a dark look over his shoulder, he dragged Matt away. I tried not to think about what he would do to him. "Oh hey, teamwork," Stiles observed dryly. Derek paused for a fraction of a second, enough to shoot him a dirty look at his remark.

Well, that was one way to put it. It was over so quickly, I barely had time to process everything. A shot rang out in the backyard, and Stiles and I froze. A moment later, Gerard strode back inside. He nodded tightly at Chris. "It's done."

"What's going to happen to him now?" Chris responded, nodding at the kanima. His question was answered only a few seconds later. The scales faded from his body, returning his features to the sharp-cheekboned face I knew so well. He lay there curled in a ball, groaning. Stiles quickly tossed a towel over him to cover him up, preserving his last shred of dignity as my brother laid naked on the floor, surrounded by people who mostly hated him.

"Jack?" I blurted, taking a step towards him.

Derek threw out a protective arm. "Wait," he said in a low voice as his features returned to normal as well. "We don't know how he is yet. It could be dangerous."

Jack groaned again, stirring. It felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath. Suddenly, he opened his eyes, and I heard myself gasp.

They were a glowing, electrifying blue.

_You've seen the world_  
_What did it look like?_  
_You took a plane_  
_I'll take a push bike_  
_Run with the wolves_  
_Calling all the wolf pack_  
_When did you go and when did you get back?_

_-Wolfpack by The Vaccines_

* * *

**Thank you so much to everyone who read! Special shoutout to charisma26 and ItsGacyPuddin for leaving reviews :) The action might not completely make sense tactically, but I just wanted to get it over with and get back to other things going on our characters' personal lives. Let me know what you think!**


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